Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Phenomenalology

Now that is what I’d call a real chair, the fragranceof chairness billowing outmarvelously from beneaththe armrests. This chairis definitively there, weagree on the space it takesto exist. Place it in a meadow, and yellow butterflies will land along its frame, when you scoot the chair away, yellow wings will remain,floating, twitching, an outlineof a chair so convincingsomeone would try to sit.Do not talk to me aboutreupholstery. Sacrilege.Anyone sitting here, youask. Passel of butterflies trumpets in tinny, quiveringchorus, you!

5 comments:

The way this moves from a satiric take on all those object poems of 50-100 years ago to a quite poignant piece of found art -- let us be as we are without the mind, please -- seems to hover (like a butterfly) around the word "reupholstery" - indicating its uselessness even for a Duchampian object purpose. Or maybe i'm reading too much into it; perhaps due to your odd title, which I take to be a hybrid of phenomenology (the study of consciousness) and alology (interest in new ideas). At any rate, you bring spring-time death alive without showing any springs!